Into the Fade
by sweetfilthyjunk
Summary: AU-esque. Hawke and company journey into the Fade to rescue Feynriel from his demons of Pride and Desire - but what happens when it turns out Hawke has some hidden Desires of her own? Fem Hawke Fenris Mature Content.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Age. If I did. It probably would have been a lot less like a game an a lot more like a porno.**

* * *

Feynriel was in trouble _again_.

Marian Hawke sighed as she carefully re-read the letter Arianni had sent her. Her back complaining at the awkward position she sat hunched in over her writing desk. Plate mail hanging heavy on her shoulders, skin grimed with sweat and blood. She groaned, letting her frustration leak out after a long and exhausting day.

It was hard to tell if the woman was being deliberately vague. Arianni had said little more than that she required their assistance, rather urgently. Still, Marian could not be sure that this involved Feynriel – URG! who was she kidding, of course it did! The kindly elf woman would be too meek to ask for their assistance regarding anything less urgent.

Dammit, this couldn't wait until morning, no matter how much Hawke could feel the pull of her bed and the call of a warm bathe. Luxury could wait, this could not. It had been her decision to send Feynriel to the Dalish. If he was causing trouble now, if even one innocent life was lost, the blood was on her hands.

Marian was suddenly very glad she had decided to check her correspondence before even relieving herself of her armor. This needed attention now, and she didn't know if she would have the strength to gear up for a trek to the alienage if she had found this letter in the comfort of her silk robe with a full meal sitting heavy in her stomach.

Heaving herself to her feat Marian retrieved her greatsword from where it rested, leaning precariously against the hearth of her estates fireplace. She ignored the groan of her tired joints and muscles as she lifted the considerable burden, sliding it into place in the formidable sheath strapped across her back. She would just have to man up, this wouldn't be the first time she had pulled an all-nighter. Not even the first time in the last fortnight. She just hoped they wouldn't have to face anything nastier than Carta members.

* * *

Not surprisingly, her companions were less than thrilled by this latest turn in events. She had found Isabela and Varric and the Hanged Man, predictably enough. By the looks of it if she had gotten there just in time. Any later and they would have been three sheets to the wind. Well, there was no time to let them sober up. They would just have to come as they were. It wasn't like she could scold them, she had spent plenty a night here herself: drinking to forget her sorrows, her seemingly endless responsibilities, pretending she really _was_ the beautiful and infallible heroine Varric spoke of in all his tales.

Anders had been at his clinic, overworked as always. After a long day out helping her vanquish the forces of evil it made her sad to think that he had to return to even more work. Marian suspected he was probably even more accustomed to sleepless nights than she was herself. She waited patiently outside the door as he healed a young child with a broken leg. Briefly she contemplated turning back and going to get the others. What harm would it do to leave him here, to give him one peaceful night?

_Enough._

She knew. She would need at least one mage with her if she was going to be dealing with mages, and she still wasn't sure how far she could trust Merrill. Sure the girl was sweet enough, but her naivety and history with blood magic just did not sit comfortably with Hawke.

Aveline had been next on her list. She came along easily enough, although Marian was not blind to the longing look the Guard Captain shot over she shoulder at Donnic. _Newlyweds_. Hawke thought with some mixture of humor and contempt.

She was glad that her friend was happy. She really was. Lately she just found her opinions of love – and everything that came with it – were too colored by her own romantic failings. Happy couples did nothing but remind her how happy and how couple-y she currently was not – and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

* * *

Marian had decided to call on Fenris last. She told herself it was because she was anticipating the moment his face curled in disgust when he learned that she would be needing his blade to assist a mage. An untrained and dangerous mage at that. Not to mention one that she had personally helped avoid The Circle...well, maybe she could just leave those details out.

He certainly wouldn't be thrilled. Not that those were her true reasons for avoiding calling on the elf. She had been the target of Fenris' rage before. He did not scare her, although perhaps he should have, the others certainly seemed on edge enough around him. No, it wasn't his temper she was afraid of. It was the emotional mine field that surrounded him.

Lately it felt like she had to watch her step around Fenris. Any wrong word or movement could set her off. The friendship they had developed – if you could even call it a friendship – was delicate at best. Marian had no idea how he would respond if she just lost control and jumped his bones one day. Well, she had some idea. She knew it wouldn't be good.

Still, she was behaving like a woman possessed. Marian had found him attractive since the first time she laid eyes on him. All blue and glowing, his hand shoved through a slaver's chest, all covered in blood.

Alas, he had ignored even her most persistent attempts at flirting. Seeming, if not completely oblivious, nothing but awkward in the presence of her blatant sexual interest. So instead she acted the part of the loyal friend, all the time believing that she couldn't simply continue becoming more and more infatuated with him. Her affections would have to reach a plateau eventually. Right?

**Wrong.**

Her once seemingly harmless crush on the ex-slave had developed into nothing short of an obsession. Their weekly reading lessons had become both the highlight of her week and the bane of her existence. The effort it took to not reach across the table and brush back the hair that hung in his face as he sat hunched over the Book of Shartan was nothing short of heroic. Still, she wouldn't give up those few sacred hours alone with the cranky elf for all the gold in Kirkwall.

* * *

Varric insisted the others wait outside when they arrived at Danarius's Mansion, insisting that Hawke was better at dealing with the "brooding elf" than all of them combined. Marian wondered if that was the truth or if this was simply another one of the his schemes. If he was trying to set her up he must know the situation was hopelessly one sided. Still, Marian quietly cursed and thanked the dwarf simultaneously for giving her this stolen moment alone with _him. _

Hawke slipped inside as smoothly as she could manage in her heavy armor. She knew from experience to use the side window, as the front door was usually heavily booby trapped at night. _Damn that elf and his paranoia._ She thought as she clamored through the small opening in a decidedly unladylike fashion.

Marian knew that by now he would have not only heard her but identified her. She had asked many times how he could tell the clamoring of one set of armor from another, but he never gave away his secrets. Sure enough, she heard the deep rumbling baritone of his voice before she even finished righting herself from her not-so-graceful entrance into his abode.

"Hawke."

"Fenris." She mocked. It was their usual greeting, but no matter how many times she used the fragile joke on him it never failed to provoke a smirk. As close to a genuine smile as he ever got. So she used it still.

"It is late. Why are you here?"

Short and to the point as always. Still it stung a bit. No "Nice to see you" or even an "Is something wrong?" the last being more likely seeing as the hour was so late and she was sure she appeared...frazzled, at best.

"I need your assistance..." She began.

"Then you have it." Fenris gave her a solemn nod and fixed her with an intense gaze. No doubt he was waiting for her to explain exactly what the situation entailed. To give him details of what he might be facing; but Marian was already having a hard time concentrating. She could feel her pulse quickening under his gaze. When he stared at her like that she felt like cornered prey, waiting to be pounced on by a ravenous wolf. _She loved it._

Focus.

"There will be mages, possibly more than one. That is all I know..." she waited for his response. A frown. Any indication of his displeasure with the involvement of magic, but he just looked at her expectantly as if waiting for more.

"A boy named Feynriel that we – I – assisted before. Perhaps Varric has told you – ?"

" I have heard of the boy yes." he cut her off. Disapproval now coloring his tone. Well, what had she expected. Of course he was unhappy that she had let a mage walk free.

"Will you still help us then?" she could hear the uncertainty that laced her own tone and she nearly flinched at her own weakness. She hated that his opinion affected her so.

"Although I may not agree, I respect your decisions," A moment of silence passed between them and Marian could have sworn she saw a blush coloring the tips of his ears. Then, almost as if he was unsure if she had understood his meaning he added. " I will help _you _Hawke."

His choice of words did not escape her, and she mumbled a quick word in thanks and hurried from his mansion before she could do something she would regret.

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTE: This is the first fan-fiction I have written so please be gentle. That is all for now. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER****: Still not mine!**

* * *

They sat in Merrill's shack and waited.

They would have to venture into the Fade. Marethari was preparing the ritual that would send them there even now.

This was worse than Marian could have feared. While the others slept on whatever surfaces they could find: slumped against chairs, leaning against walls, and (in Varric's case) sprawled across a table. Hawke sat awake and contemplated who she would take with her. She did not need to be reminded that they would all face temptation. Marian had fought blood mages before. Hawke knew that even beyond the Fade demons could put images and thoughts into the most stubborn head.

With a shudder Marian remembered her brush with Idunna in the Blooming Rose. It seemed like ages ago now, but she could still remember what it felt like to have the blood mage inside her head. To feel her free will stripped from her, overwhelmed with the desire to say and do whatever pleased the woman. If Anders hadn't been there...

Hawke banged her head back against the hard wood of Merrill's home. This attitude would do her no good. She would take Anders then. There - only two to go.

Merrill was obviously out. She had consorted with demons willingly before and was not shy or regretful about it. If anything she was almost...proud?

Isabela wasn't a good choice either. She was just too...Isabela. Hawke almost had to crack a smile at that one. She loved the Rivaini to tears; but there was no way Hawke couldn't be sure that Bela wouldn't turn on her the second a Demon offered her a big enough boat. No offense, but the woman was about as loyal as, well, a pirate.

Should she take Varric then? He was, after all, her second oldest friend among her companions and she trusted him with her life. No. Despite her affection for the dwarf she just couldn't trust him. He wasn't exactly noble. An offer of enough coin or glory would be sure to persuade him – and she hated that she knew that.

Aveline had the morale code of a saint, and Hawke couldn't even imagine what the Guard Captain might want that a demon could offer her. She had her title and she had her man. The woman was living her dream. Marian would definitely take Aveline.

_Anders, Aveline and.._

_That only left... _Hawke paused.

_ Fenris._

He had made his distaste for this mission perfectly clear. She should not ask him to come. Perhaps she should reconsider Varric after all.

No. Fenris was perfect for this. He knew enough about demons to avoid being tricked by them and he was loyal to a fault. Marian knew she had to take him, she just hoped he would forgive her. With a heavy sigh she pulled her face up from between her knees and surveyed her team with sleep heavy lids.

_Aveline, Anders, and Fenris. I hope I don't regret this._

Reflecting on her decision, Hawke felt her head droop and her vision fade to black. Before she knew it there was a heavy knocking on the door and Marethari was calling them to enter the fade.

* * *

So this was the fade?

Not exactly what she had been expecting.

Marian was happy to find that within the fade she did not feel fatigued. In fact, she felt as if she had just awoken from a deep sleep, after a long hot bath. The dirt and grime had gone from her skin and her hair felt smooth and untangled. _Well, at least some things are looking up. _She couldn't help but smile a little. This really was like a dream.

Still, Marian was not fool, the consequences in this world were very real. In the end, it was with no small amount of hesitation that Marian pushed open the first set of double doors, leading them into the courtyard of the Templar Hall.

A Demon awaited them there, calling himself Torpor. Anders – Justice,really – called it a sloth demon. He warned Marian that it made men forget their purpose. Hawke tried to focus and keep her mind alert, but as the demon seduced her she noticed she felt nothing. No tug. It's attempt seemed laughable at best.

She refused it and cut it down in one stroke.

Her fears earlier suddenly seemed silly. She had thought that if demons outside the fade seemed so fearsome, that their forms within it would certainly be formidable foes. But perhaps without a human host demons were nothing more that the pathetic creature Torpor had been. Perhaps Abominations held all of the power.

Marian suddenly felt the fool for worrying as much as she had, there was nothing here that was a threat to her and her party.

As Hawke lead the way up the stairs and down the east hallway she thought smugly to herself:

_I could have brought Isabela along after all._

After a disappointing amount of empty rooms filled with no demons at all, Marian burst through the final door and was startled to find herself in the form of Arianni. A demon was trying to possess Feynriel using the form of his father. Cheap trick. It made her stomach turn.

Hawke knew Feynriel wanted nothing more than his father's recognition and love. She couldn't blame the poor lad, and she would be sorry to shatter this fantasy.

_Be gentle, do not break the illusions too quickly. _She reminded herself. Marian still wanted to save the boy, if at all possible.

"Your father never wanted anything to do with you. Don't trust him." The words sound strange coming from her lips in Arianni's voice, but Feynriel seemed to find them encouraging.

"Why are you lying to me!?" He turned to his father, betrayal written clearly on his face.

"This is a trick Feynriel." Marian ventured, emboldened by the boys trust in her "He wants something from you."

That did trick, it was enough to make the boy remember that his father was never there for him. That this illusion was nothing but a happy lie. Hawke winced as his face crumbled, but she was glad he had the mind to run as the demon revealed itself.

_A desire demon_, Marian allowed herself a small moment of victory, _I was right._

She took note that the room had turned back from the cozy little study of Feynriel's fantasy into the hard stone square of it's reality.

"You! You turned him against me!" The Desire demon whines. The over sexualized voice washing over Marian, causing her to shiver involuntarily.

_ A jolt of __**desire**__. _She almost chuckled,how unexpected.

"Complete accident. I was trying to help. Honest." Behind her she can almost hear Fenris smirking, and she _does_ hear Aveline's grunt of disapproval. The demon though, seemed unfazed.

"Take away my pets and I'll take away yours. How loyal are these friends you drag into the Fade?"

Despite herself, Marian finds herself unnerved by the demons words. She hazards a look over her shoulder at her companions, knowing it is unwise to take her eyes off the demon. Is someone planning on betraying her? No. The demon is just planting the seed of doubt. She chose her companions carefully. None of them would turn on her now, not for flimsy promises made in the Fade.

But the Demon presses on.

"What would your noble knight do to reclaim what she lost?"

Suddenly it is Wesley in front of them and Hawke begins to have serious doubts. _Would_ Aveline betray her for a chance to redeem herself in the eyes of her first love? The Captains fist is tight and shaking on her blade. Marian would have sworn she was happy with Donnic, but you can never really tell when it comes to affairs of the heart.

"Wesley?"

Marian's heart nearly breaks at the sound. She has never heard Aveline's voice tremble before. The woman is always so strong.

"Do not fall for this Aveline. This is a demon in Wesley's skin."

The Demon wearing Wesley's face turns to look at Marian with contempt and sneers.

"It is not the face she wants. It is the redemption."

Surprisingly, it is this that seems to break Aveline from her trance. She looks down at the ring on her finger, even though she can not see it through her heavy steel gauntlets. Determination seeping back into her eyes.

"I do not require your redemption." she sneers, although beneath the strength of her rebellion she sounds tired. As if she has just fought a great battle within herself.

"Oh I seeeee!" the Demon purrs. And Hawke does her best to douse the heat the Demon's voice has injected into her blood stream, to banish the images summoned unbidden into her mind.

"Perhaps the elf then.." Marian watches with slight horror as the scantily clad demon approaches Fenris. Her carnal magics and the mere mention of "the elf" awakening a dizzying array of forbidden fantasies within Hawke. She watches the demon caress herself: hands trailing delicately across pert purple breasts, long black nails dancing over her tight stomach.

Marian's head is filled with images of Fenris' hands. She sees him stroking the swell of her breasts, the sharp tips of his gauntlets leaving thin red trails in their wake. She sees him running his deadly gauntlets gently across her stomach. He could kill her at any moment and the thought of it sends thrills through her veins and goosebumps across her skin. She sees him trailing his now naked hands down slowly towards her -

_No stop!_

She tries again to clear her head as she stifles a moan, but she attempt is futile.

_I shouldn't have brought him after all. _Marian hardly has time for that last second of regret. She tries to damped her awakened desires. To think of horribly un-sexy things her mabari or the Qun, but it is too late. The demon has fixed it's gaze on her.

_It was me! I shouldn't have brought me._

"Oh goooody." she all but cackles. Suddenly the demon is right in front of her and Marian feels her thoughts go fuzzy in an overpowering haze of lust.

_I'm so sorry._

"Hawke!" she hears Fenris' distressed cry.

"Found one." the demons voice is but a whisper in her ear as the room fades out around her. Hawke tries to hold on to reality. To the present. To the mission. But in the end she has only one thought as the demon invades her mind.

_Fenris?_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** I'm not sure if I am bad at writing sexy things, or if I am just incapable of finding it sexy because I wrote it. Maybe I'll do science on it later. : /**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Characters are not mine. Are never gonna be mine. And are never gonna let me forget it. :(**

* * *

Hawke stood in the familiar confines of her bedroom, awash in the comforting glow of her hearth. Her favorite silk robe hung loose about her curves. She was finally home. A sigh almost left her lips in relief. It had been a long day.

_A long day doing what? How did I get here? _Hawke found she could not remember the details of the last few hours, but she didn't feel particularly bothered to try recalling them either.

"Marian.."

_Fenris._

The deep rumble of his familiar voice sent a thrill through her. It was lower than normal, huskier, with a sharp edge to it. She had heard him talk like that only a few times before. It was his predatory tone – he was using it on her.

_ Maker have mercy._

Hawke turned shyly to face him, absolutely sure she was blushing like a lunatic. It seemed so natural for him to be here, in her bedroom, staring at her as if she was an enemy to be conquered. Marian met his eyes and felt the first tingle of anticipation stir in her belly.

She should have been startled nearly out of her skin. She had not expected him, had not even heard him approach, and yet there he stood, in her doorway looking...off somehow.

Off, but _oh-so-alluring_.

"Why are you here?" It was a stupid question, Marian decided, immediately after she had asked. Who cared what he was doing here? She wanted him to stay.

He looked confused, and suddenly it was as if her brain had re-written itself. Memories of her longing and self-denial quickly fading. Replaced by fonder memories: the look of adoration in his deep green eyes as they woke side-by-side, the brush of his lips against her fingertips as she fed him a morsel from her dinner plate, the scent of him lingering on her sheets and clothes. Her thoughts seemed muddled and she tried desperately to think straight. Why had she asked him such a stupid question? Of course he was here. He belonged here, with her.

"I am always here." He answered, and she realized with a start that he was right next to her now. When had he moved? She could feel his hot breath steady on her neck, ghosting over the skin but not quite touching. That bastard, he was _teasing_ her. Fighting back a noise of frustration Marian leaned back into him, seeking out the contact she so desperately wanted. The stiff feel of him pressing against the curve of her ass evoked a guttural moan from her.

"Hawke!" – she was almost alarmed, but the voice seemed somehow far off. Dim and unimportant. Marian tried to ignore it, to focus on the feeling of Fenris and Fenris alone – but it came again, like a fly buzzing in her ear. Annoyed, she pulled away, looking around vaguely for it's source.

_That sounds like Aveline..._ _she sounds upset. _

Fenris saw her attention drifting and his arms tightened around her waist in response, pulling her flush against him once more. Steady fingers found the tie of her robe just as his lips found the lobe of her ear, wrenching a sharp whimper from her..

_Silly Marian, _she chided herself, _focus!_

Suddenly desperate to touch him she reached a hand back, surprised when her fingers encountered nothing but bare flesh. He had been wearing his armour earlier hadn't he?

Marian tried to picture what he had looking like standing in her doorway but her mind couldn't quite recall the image. It was as if it hovered just beyond her reach. Well it wasn't as if she _wanted_ him to be more clothed. A silly smirk graced her lips as she felt the threads of his muscles tighten and jump under her caress.

_ Perish the thought._

_ "Hawke!" _she heard someone cry, a hoarse baritone voice that she usually associated with –

"Fenris?" she questioned, her eyes snapping open? She could have sworn he was just calling to her, from somewhere far away.

Something was **wrong**.

"Hawke..." The same voice sounded, much closer this time. His lips traced a line shell of her ear, whispering to her, "Tu mihi nunc, dulce est*" His voice raspy with lust and need as he finished undoing the tie to her robe.

Maker she loved it when he spoke Tevinter. Marian felt her knees begin to quiver, if they didn't make it to the bed soon... Well, so what if they ended up doing this on the rug?

Hawke rolled her shoulders languidly and the silk robe dropped easily to the floor, pooling at their feet. She was bare before him now. Bare and happy.

Without warning his passion turned feral. Before she could register his movements he spun her to face him, slamming her hard against the unforgiving wall of her bedchamber. Despite herself Marian felt a thrill of fear run through her. His tattoos were glowing, and his touches now were anything but gentle. She was definitely going to have some bruises tomorrow.

Hawke had always imagined Fenris as an uninhibited and possessive lover, and it seemed now he was doing everything in his power to prove her right. His lips found her shoulder first, her clavicle, then the curve at the base of her neck. She felt his teeth nip at her skin, he wasn't vicious, but she was sure it would leave a mark. Marian felt her heart swell in her chest. This was just how she always imagined it. He was marking her as his.

"Fenris, please!"

Impatient, she sifted her fingers through his silver hair and yanked his face up to meet hers. She needed to know what he tasted like.

_Shouldn't you already know? _A nagging voice in her head asked her.

He growled in response, but did not bring his lips to hers. The sound sent a thrill of dangerous thrill through her. There was something sexy about a man who could rip your heart out in the blink of an eye – but chose to ravish you instead.

Marian's back hit the smooth wood of her dresser and she felt the warmth of his fingertips graze the outside of her thighs, asking for permission. She was more than eager to respond, letting him hitch her legs up so that they wrapped easily around his waist. He was so firm between her legs. She could feel every taut inch of him pressing up against her willing form. She quivered. This had to happen _now._

"I want you." she heard herself rasp out, her voice rough and husky to her own ears. She wanted to know what he felt like inside her. But...

They must have been together before.

She searched her mind desperately for the memory.

She felt him pause in his ministrations.

"Yes" He said, his voice taking on a different nature, one that made Marian's mind spin with need and...

"Do you Desire me?" His hips rolled against her once more and she let out a hollow moan. Her fingertips carving shallow paths along the curve of his shoulder.

_Desire._ The word sparked a distant memory. She stood in the fade, a Desire demon turned on her with a glint in it's eye. She was it's prey.

_Oh no. _

_ Oh no no no no. _It became a mantra, she could think nothing else – and it was with this realization, that her precious fantasy world began to crumble around her.

* * *

"Nooooo!" She heard the shrill voice of the Desire demon cry as she broke loose from it's prison in vain.

"HAWKE!?"

"Marian Please!"

"Come to your senses!"

Three voices beckoned to her in unison and for the first time she understood. This had been her Desire. She had given in to the demon. Shame engulfed her.

They has seen. _He _had seen.

Maker strike her down so she would not have to face _him_.

Slowly the trappings of her bedroom faded away to be replaced with the cold stone walls of the Hall of Templars. Marian felt the weight of her armor, heavy again on her shoulder. She was no longer naked with Fenris in the privacy of her bedroom. How could she have been such a fool?

Seconds ago that moment had felt so possible, so right. Now it had never felt so alien, so out of reach. Her knees gave out underneath her and she hung her head in shame.

She could not face them now, how could she? She was sure they had seen, every last moment of it. How could they have not? Hadn't they all been privy to Feynriel's desire. Why not hers?

_You should be glad they saw,_ She scolded herself silently. _Otherwise you would probably be an abomination by now._

Somewhere in the distance she was aware of a battle cry. Of the sounds of blades and the screech of a demon. She heard magic being cast, and the scrape of Aveline's plate armor as she fought.

They were fighting the demon, fighting without her. Still, she could not bring herself to rise. This was not her fight. She should not even be here, she was too weak for the Fade.

* * *

"She's completely out of it."

"No, I tried that already."

"Hawke! Wake up!"

"DAMMIT HAWKE!"

A sharp sting across her face brought Marian to her senses. Aveline stood over her, looking haggard and..sympathetic? Hawke could not place the second emotion.

"Hawke you need to get up. We have unfinished business."

Marian knew that was true. They had to find Feynriel and escape the Fade. She just...She just couldn't ever look Fenris in the eyes again.

Hawke stood slowly and made her way to the door. She didn't stop to check if her companions were behind her. They would either follow or they wouldn't. Honestly, she wouldn't blame them if they decided to elect another leader after this debacle – but for now she would push on.

The west hallway remained unexplored and if the east side had been any indication of what was to come. They were in for quite a doozy.

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTE: The Tevinter is Latin and means "You are mine now, sweet thing" At least according to Google Translate. A sentiment from the Desire demon since Hawke does not speak the language. **

** I will try to keep updating at least semi-frequently. It's not over yet. Hope you all are enjoying it. **


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER****: I freekin' wish...man.**

* * *

_ Venhedis._

Fenris paced impatiently. He found himself unable to stop from glaring at the door It had been almost a fortnight. He had thought drinking would be a good way to silence his tortured thoughts, but it seemed the opposite was true. Sober he could focus on other things, his reading, his revenge, anything; but drunk he seemed unable to assert the self-control needed to keep his mind off of _her._

He could not help but blame Hawke for his predicament. Part of his mind repeatedly insisted that it was her fault, that her display had weakened his mind. She had distracted him. How could anyone have expected him to resist a demon in such a state?

There was no denying it. He had betrayed her. The fault was his alone. She, Aveline, even the _abomination_ had been able to resist. But not him. What did this mean about his resolve? Fenris had thought his hatred of mages to be resolute and unshakable – but how could he continue to blame them for their weakness when he himself was no better?

He had worked himself up into a fury again, flinging the now empty bottle of wine into the fireplace. A frown pulled at his lips, this destruction was not enough. He needed a better outlet, he needed to kill. He needed some sort of..._release._

This had been a viscous cycle for him over the last fortnight. Drinking himself into a stupor and systematically wrecking a different rooms within mansion..well, wrecking them _more_. There was hardly an unbroken item of furniture remaining in this forsaken house. He cursed again, realizing that his eyes had drifted back to the door.

Why had she still not come? He did not understand it. Surely she must have some need of him by now?

_No. She cannot just ignore this. She cannot just ignore __**me**__. _

...but she can. What need had she to discuss this? Why should _she_ seek _him_ out? She knew all the answers, the justification behind these things that were slowly eating away at his mind.

Fenris craved her forgiveness, his fingers itched to take up his sword to fight by her side. Would she not have him back? Had his actions really been so reprehensible? Did she regret what had transpired so much?

_Is she so ashamed of wanting me? _It was clear he would have no peace tonight. _ Does she regret her feelings this much?_

He had not forgotten a moment of what had transpired in the fade. His betrayal haunted his waking hours, it was true, but she had taken to haunting his very dreams.

Her desire for him had been entirely unsuspected. She had never shown any interest, and she had plenty of opportunity. Fenris had searched his memories again and again for any sign Hawke might have given him; any indication that she desired for more than friendship.

She certainly spent enough time alone with him, teaching him to read. Why had she never acted if she wanted him so much?

Perhaps that was just it then. She did not want _him. _Fenris had to admit the possibility that it was only his body that she desired. He did not know how attractive he was. There had never been reason to dwell on his physical appearance before now. Still, if Isabela was to be believed he was quite..._pleasing_..to the eye. Was that really all she wanted from him, a quick rut to satisfy her lust?

He found a growl forming low in his throat...Why did he find that possibility so displeasing. It certainly did not bother him when the pirate queen propositioned him. Why should it be so different for Hawke?

His fingers twitched and the desire to destroy something grew stronger within him.

_Curse her to the void and back for doing this to me._

Images of her with the desire demon plagued him nearly every night. Watching her writhe and moan in response to his lips on her body – despite the illusion of it all – had made a deep impression on Fenris. If he was lucky he would simply relive the moments, the embarrassment, the shock of learning the she secretly wanted him. Less welcome was the rage he felt as the demon touched her, the burning desire to remove it's fingers and replace them with his own.

Worse were the nights when the dream shifted and changed. Fenris would find himself entering her bedroom, going to her as the demon had. Sometimes she would not have him at all, and he would crawl back to his mansion with a miserable ache in his heart. Still, Sometimes she would accept his advances – those nights were the wost. Despite his attempts to please her, to touch her as the spirit had, she would not respond. His inadequacy as a lover overwhelmed him and in the end Hawke always sent him away.

He knew that it would inevitably end this way. Since the events in the Fade Fenris had had no choice but to begrudgingly admit to his desires for the woman. It had been all he could do to repress them before. Telling himself that she would not want affection from one such as him, that it would be cruel to complicate her life further when she had done so much for him – for all of them.

Many times he had considered sneaking into her house: awaiting her in her bedroom, coming upon her in the bath, cornering her as she lounged in the library.

Now that he knew of her desire for him it had become infinitely harder to suppress his own. It was impossible to un-see her fantasy, even harder to know he could not give her that which she wanted. His only memories of intimacy were violent or at least unpleasant. Fenris could not imagine she would want to be treated as one of Danarius' whores.

_What could I possibly have to offer her, some sloppy kisses and a quick tumble?_

She wanted more than that, he knew. She would expect skill, knowledge of a woman's pleasure, even of his own. She would expect confidence. She would expect...things he did not have.

Fenris awoke from his nightly tortures frustrated beyond belief. Often needing to relieve himself. The urge to go to her was strong, but he did not know if she would take him now. He had gone to her mansion many nights. She was supposed to be teaching him to read. He used this as an excuse. Consoling himself that he was merely showing up for the promised lessons, nothing more. Yet he could not bring himself to knock on her door.

Sometimes he simply returned, dejected, back to his mansion, but some nights the desire to be near her was too strong. He would simply wait outside her doors, his eyes trained steadily on her window in a vain hope to catch a glimpse of her figure. The figure that so plagued his thoughts

_Hawke..._

Fasta Vass! He would not suffer another moment of insecurity. He would have his answer tonight.

Fenris quickly gathered up his armor, securing his gauntlets and settling his over-sharpened blade within it's sheathe. He tried to convince his booze addled brain into forming a broken plan. He would go to the Hanged Man, Hawke was there most nights, she was certain to be there now. It would be easier to face her with so many others around them, perhaps she would even be inebriated as well.

Yes. He would go to her, he could wait no longer.

* * *

"Balls."

Isabela flinched as she watched the elf walk through the door of their favorite bar. His handsome featured set in a determined expression that did not bode well for her friend.

Why did he have to come now? Things had been going so well. Hawke was drunk, she was laughing. Isabela felt she had not seen the warrior at ease like this in too long.

When her repeated attempts to convince her companions to recite the events in the Fade had failed, the pirate queen had been forced to draw her own conclusions. Although she had become testy when none of her friends would confirm or deny any of her increasingly absurd theories.

Dammit, she knew the elf was behind this somehow! She wanted to know the damn details!

At least Hawke had not noticed him yet. Her eyes were pleasantly glazed over as she leaned back in her chair, listening happily as Varric regaled the pub with tales of their latest exploits.

It _had _been impressive, the pirate had to admit, although not nearly as impressive as Varric was making it out be. She was sure the Varterrel had not been quite the size of a Hightown masion. She snickered.

Isabela downed the last of her tankard with a sharp jerk of her head. She had made up her mind.

_I am just too nice. _She decided as she rose from familiar set at the bar and stealthily approached the elf. She needed to distract him before the others had time to notice his presence. The elf certainly had a penchant for violence, and Isabela did not fancy loosing any limbs over her friends relationship problems – she would have to use more..._tact_...than normal.

Surprisingly enough, he seemed pleased to see her as she approached. If she didn't think him too straightforward for such schemes she would swear he was up to something. Isabela could almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

_OK_._..definitely up to something._

"I need your council." He spat out as she approached. The words shocked her, wiping any thought of secrecy or stealth momentarily from her mind. The elf hated her. He thought her unclean and wanton. What could be so pressing that he would stoop to seek advice from her?

"Fine," She heard herself answer. Curiosity piqued despite her misgivings about his motivation. "But not here, I do not want you bothering Hawke tonight."

In response he gave her little more than a sneer.

"Perish the thought."

With some hesitation, Isabela agreed to meet him tomorrow at his mansion in Hightown. It would be better to discuss whatever this was after they both had time to sober up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**** I j****ust found out that Merrill is voiced by the same lady who plays Gwen in Torchwood. I will never be able to look at her the same way again.**

** Super Thanks to my boyfriend for agreeing to take the dog out AND make dinner so that I had time to finish writing this chapter. **

** In unrelated news - I have SOMUCHFRENCHHOMEWORK. /dies**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: Bioware forever.**

* * *

Dammit! … what had he been thinking?

No, what was he _still_ thinking? It had been one thing to concoct such an outrageous plan while his thoughts were still clouded by drink. It would be another thing entirely to go through with now.

Fenris sat in the foyer of his mansion, hands clenching and un-clenching into tight fists, the claws of his gauntlets drawing ragged tears in the fabric of the already moldy armchair. He eyed the door warily; no longer willing Hawke to come. How would he explain himself then?

The pirate queen would be here soon, he had no doubt.

_Perhaps I should reconsider. _

No. He had seen her last night, laughing and drinking without a care in the world. Not effected by his absence in the least. This could be put off no longer. She would never come to him, and he could not go to her as he was now.

Still he was bothered. How he would explain the harlot's visit to Hawke? Certainly he could not tell her the truth. Scoffing at the thought, the elf tried in vain to dismiss his nerves. Not that the thought of willfully deceiving her comforted him much. Fenris usually prided himself of being blunt and straightforward.

What if she mistakenly thought there was something between them?

_As if she would care. She does not seem to be missing me much. _

It was the truth. Fenris had spent weeks in his mansion pining for her; and what had she been doing? Did his absence not pain her at all?

_Clearly not. _

Isabela had visited him at his home before. Hawke would probably not even care...she would probably not even _notice. _The thought of her indifference filled him with such ire that his markings began to glow. With a deep growl Fenrsi stood and flung his chair clean across the room, wincing as it broken into pieces against the wall, showing the floor with splinters.

When **was **the Rivaini going to get here, dammit, he needed something to take his mind off of Hawke_. _

_ Good luck with that, you are doing __**this**__ for her too. _

_ "_Bravo!" A voice behind him cooed, hands clapping together softly. "Quite the little performance."

He spun on her quickly, his markings lighting up at the intrusion.

"When did you get here whore? I did not hear you knock."

Isabela seemed to find his anger amusing. Not deterred from approaching his luminescent form. Fenris felt his nose wrinkled when the sweet smell of alcohol hit his nose. A smirk was growing on the pirate's lips. Was she drunk already, or had she simply not washed.? Both options were equally off-putting to him. Fenris forced himself to swallow his swelling repulsion. He needed this though, and he wouldn't let himself forget it, no matter how repulsed he was by the woman.

"I let myself in." she purred at him, gesturing to the window he left perpetually unlocked and cracked for Hawke's convenience. The subtle reminder of how long it had been since she had climbed her way clumsily into his home was enough to sober him – significantly – his markings fading quickly back to white tattoos.

Fenris realized he was being watched, somewhat expectantly.

"So tell me, what can auntie Isabela help you with?"

The way Isabela cocked her hip as she spoke belied her words. The Rivaini was a sexual creature if nothing else. Her intentions were anything but familial and certainly not platonic either. Well, at least her experience would serve him well this evening. Fenris took a deep breath through gritted teeth.

She was not going to make it easy for him. That much was already clear.

In the end it was with doubt buried in his gut that he opened his mouth and began telling his story. After all, she could not possibly understand what he needed from her until she understood all that had happened – from _his _perspective.

He had no idea what she may have heard from Hawke.

* * *

Isabella tried her best to keep her face stoic as Fenris recounted the events that transpired within the Fade to her. Still, the images he painted for her, the detail he went into.

Andraste's flaming knickers! Was he _trying _to turn her on?

There was just so much opportunity here. She would mock them mercilessly for this later. Once everything had gone back to normal.

_**If**_ _everything goes back to normal, you mean?_

No, Isabela wouldn't even entertain the thought that something so trivial as a demon could come between the two of them. They were both clearly crazy for each other. As usual, in love anyways, they alone seemed oblivious of the signs.

Distantly, she noticed that he had stopped speaking. He looked so serious, as if the world was crumbling around him. Isabela couldn't help it, a small giggle bubbled in her throat. The absurdity of the whole was suddenly overwhelming her.

Isabela lost the fight. His poor lost puppy expression was too much for her. She burst out laughing.

"This is not _**funny!**__" _Fenris all but barked at her.

"Oh it most certainly _is_." She assured him as she regained her normal even breathing. Struggling to compose herself, another wave of giggles threatening to surface any second.

"You just can't see it because you're so..._broody._"

His now unarmored fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he seemed to struggle with something.

"Now do you understand why I need instruction?"

That piqued her interest. He said it as if his intentions were obvious. Sure, he _had _said last night that needed her council. A request so strange that she had actually been rather eager to hear him out.

Still, even now that she had heard his tale, Isabela was at a loss to explain what he might need from her? Aside from a little one-sided sexual tension the two did not even get along.

"Oh? What do you need to know?" A teasing tone working it's way into her voice despite her genuine curiosity.

"I could teach you how to win at Wicked Grace. Or maybe you wanted some fashion advice? That armor _is _awfully concealing."

Isabela snickered, caught up in her ruminations until Fenris saw fit to clear his throat loudly. She had to admit, the elf was cute when he tried to be all menacing.

"If you are quite finished," he snapped.

"I would like to explain why I called you here."

* * *

"I'm sorry love, you want me to do _what?!" _

He had dreaded this part of their meeting the most but Fenris could not help but take pleasure in Isabela's shocked expression. The fact that she could be appalled by anything anymore – as crude and worldly as she was – amused him.

"You heard me wench, do not make me repeat myself."

Not even pausing at his abrasive tones and harsh words Isabela bore down on him. She crossed the room within seconds and shoved her face towards his, hands firmly planted on the curve of her waist. Annoyance played clearly on her features.

"Trust me, if you actually care about her, this is that _last _thing you want to be doing."

Come to think of it, he had never seen her angry before either. Usually Isabela just treated everything as one continuous joke. The fact that she even had a serious side was news to him. Fenris figured he would just wait this out. He seriously doubting that she would have the will-power to turn down his ….proposal... in the end.

"Hell, if she even knew that I was here right now she would probably rip both of our heads off. Hawke-"

"Stop,"

_Loves you. _The pirate queen finished silently.

Fenris could not fight the need to interject any longer.

"I doubt she would care if you and I had sex in the center of Hightown."

"Is that what you really believe?!" She stepped towards him, forcing him to take a step back lest their bodies meet.

"She has been beating herself up ever since you all returned from the Fade. I just didn't know **why** until now!"

Despite himself, Fenris felt Isabela's words reaching him. Had she really been so upset?

...No, she clearly had not been.

"She did not seem upset last night at the Hanged Man." He flung back at her, allowing vitriol to drip into his words for the first time this evening. No longer worried about driving her away.

"Urg!" The pirate queen threw up her hands in defeat. "That's it. I've heard enough."

She was gone before he could even try to stop her, seeming to melt into the very shadows of his mansion - of which there were plenty. As he heard the door slam shut he could have sworn her heard her cursing him under her breath.

"how..so stupid...both of you...absolute idiots!"

* * *

Hawke had been unable to pull herself away from the window of her mansion all day. She had sought Anders out early this morning for yet another hang over cure. It was on her way back towards Hightown that she had noticed Isabela.

_Is she coming to see me? _

The woman certainly seemed to have a sense of purpose surrounding her. Hawke followed at a distance trying her best to avoid the pirate queens notice. It was natural to be curious. It was not often that Isabela graced Hightown with her presence, after all.

Hawke's heart had fallen when she saw the Rivaini enter Fenris' mansion through the window. The one he always left open just for her. What business could he possibly have with their disreputable friend. She knew Fenris was not interested in Isabela but... still she felt uneasy. The woman certainly came on to him strong enough.

Hawke pushed the thoughts from her head, knowing that Fenris found the pirate's unclean lifestyle repulsive. He would probably by angry at he for even considering the pairing.

Eventually Marian returned home, her head a storm of emotions and suspicion. She could not simply linger outside his mansion all day, someone would notice her – and she highly doubted "I was following someone" would sound like a good excuse to the city guard.

It was much later when she saw Isabella emerge, clearly disheveled and looking flushed. Hawke squinted, but she could not read the pirate's expression from this distance.

Had they fought? The two were prone to doing so. It was the most innocent explanation.

_No, she was there for hours. They must have done more than fight..._

Desperate to not believe this was actually happening Hawke tried her best to find some other justification for Isabela's presence at the mansion. Nothing. Apparently this was less far-fetched than she previously thought.

Isabela was a beautiful, tempting woman. How could any man be expected to resist _her? _Repeatedly even. Hawke only prayed that it was just sex. If Fenris actually had feelings for Isabela she might just die of shame.

_Maker, _when had she gotten so petty and jealous. They were her friends. She should be happy for them.

* * *

_ **Dammit.**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am sorry. I feel like an awful tease. I just want everyone to find out what Fenris wanted from Isabela at the same time Hawke does. **

**Am I horrible?**

**I also wanted to thank _Enchanter T.I.M_ for being such a loyal reviewer. It's always reassuring to know someone likes my work. **


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: blah blah blah, Bioware, blah...**

**WARNING: Adult content galore. Read at your own risk.**

* * *

Fenris was only halfway through his first bottle of Aggregio when he heard the telltale sound of someone moving around downstairs. His ear twitched as a large crash sounded from below. Yes, there was definitely someone. In fact, it almost sounded like...

_ Hawke?_

Why would she come here, now of all times? It was late... how late he couldn't be sure. The haze of alcohol made him less aware of his surroundings than normal. Suddenly he cursed his decision to drink his worries away, he did not want to be so inebriated. They had not had a conversation in so many weeks, and he wanted it to be a lucid one.

Fenris all but leaped down the stairs in his hurry to head her off. Though he needn't have worried. Hawke still lay curled up on the floor beneath his window. She was drunk too it seemed. Well, at least she had the presence of mind not to use the front door.

Fenris stood and the base of the stairs, unable to decide if he should go to help her. Her form seemed to call to him, his heart singing at her proximity. Even across the room this was the closest he had been to her in...too long.

Perhaps Hawke would not want his help. She was clearly not pleased with him. However, Fenris felt his hesitation dissolve as he watched her unsuccessfully try to rise for a third time. It was time to intervene.

Neither of them spoke. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and words seemed to escape him. Greetings, confessions, and apologies all formed in his head, but none sounded articulate enough to give voice to.

Instead he merely approached her with caution, careful to make enough noise so as to not surprise her. He knew she was less alert than normal when she was drunk.

Hawke did not even meet his eyes as Fenris pulled her steadily to her feet. He wondered why she would come here now, after all this time, but he feared her response. If he brought up anything so unpleasant she might try to leave. That was the last thing he wanted.

Hawke had a talent for misunderstanding the most simple of phrases, or perhaps he was just not so skilled at expressing himself. Besides, Fenris was glad for her presence – even if her timing was less than ideal.

Watching her so unsteady on her feet, Fenris felt a strange urge swell within his chest. She was so vulnerable like this, the need to protect her – to take care of her – was magnified. It nearly overwhelmed him.

"Hawke?"

At the sound of his voice she Finally lifted her head to look him in the eyes. He was sure she had never looked so tempting before, but then, they had not been alone together her since he knew of her desire for him. Why had she come to him like this, so easy to take advantage of? Did she want him to seize the opportunity?

Fenris was suddenly glad for his experience as a slave. . Many years under Danarius's' service had perfected his self-control. Otherwise he doubted he would have the willpower to stop from kissing her. His fingers itched for the feel of her soft skin.

Hawke took an unsteady step towards him and his resolve crumbled. Fenris scooped her up into his arms. She was so light, even in all of her armor. As he turned to take her up the stairs, back to the warmth of his fire and the comfort of his bedroom – really the only inhabited space in the mansion – Fenris tried in vain to justify his current actions.

_She is drunk, she could not have taken the stairs on her own. She could hardly stand._

While his comfort to himself was not a lie, he knew it was not his true motivation. Fenris was drowning in the wave of lust she had unknowingly evoked in him. Hawke was not making it any easier. She seemed more than content with her current situation, he arms wrapped tight around his neck as she nuzzled her her face gently against his hair.

Her first warm breath against his ear sent an almost painful jolt of longing through him. At once Fenris wanted the sensation again, just as much as he dreaded it. He had to get her off of him, he could not take much more of this – he would never forgive himself if he took advantage of her in this state.

Hawke seemed oblivious to her surroundings as Fenris considered the girl in his arms. Why had she gotten so drunk? Why had she come to him? Why was she wandering Hightown alone at this time of night, it was not safe for her.

If she had drunk herself under a table at the Hanged Man not a single one of their companions would have let her leave alone. She must have been drinking by herself. Not that he was in any position to judge.

* * *

Six warm, tantalizing breaths against his neck later, Fenris finally closed the door of his chambers. The time he had spent climbing the two dozen stairs felt like hours. Wonderful, torturous hours. His skin felt as if it had been lit aflame. He could feel his breath coming faster than normal as his heart pounded a rough rhythm withing his chest.

He could not put her down fast enough – though Hawke seemed to have different ideas. As he bent to lay her gently on his bed she only tightened her grip on him, reluctant to be released. He found himself slightly impressed with the strength and certainty she was still capable of in this state. Fenris tried to be gentle, wary of hurting her, as he pried her arms free, setting her lightly on his sheets.

The image she presented, sprawled below him, did nothing for his current condition. Her face flushed and her hair loose across his pillow – It felt almost as if she was taunting him.

Should he remove her armor? He often slept in his own, but it was much lighter than hers. Why did her comfort matter to him so much anyways? She obviously wasn't concerned for his, though he doubted she knew the effect she was having on him. In the end, it was with uncertain hands that he bent to remove the clasps of her heavy mail.

His worries confirmed as he lifted her chest plate away, revealing a tempting expanse of skin. Her breasts were mercifully hidden by some small wrappings meant to secure them in combat. Fenris found himself thankful for small favors.

If she woke up now would she assume the worst? Probably. He _was _undressing her after all. Fenris finched as his fingers brushed lightly across her abdomen. The touch was accidental, he had merely knelt to loosen her gauntlets. The small sound she made in response brought vivid images to the front of his mind. Fenris couldn't tell if it was his memories from the Fade or merely flashes of his own fantasies.

He needed to be more careful.

_Touch her! _His body seemed to scream at him.

_Not like this. _If he gave in now, he doubted she would even remember it in the morning. Still, she was not making this easy for him.

Fenris guarded his movements carefully as he removed the rest of her armor. Trying to focus on the task at hand and not on the vast expanse of unblemished skin laid out before him.

He would need to take care of himself. The situation was becoming almost painful.

"Fenris..." he heard a soft call from behind him as he approached the door. He turned back to look at her. Had she been awake this whole time? Had she simply lay still and let him undress her like that? He felt a sudden urge to assure her of the purity in his intentions, but the words died in his throat. They seemed untrue. He would have gladly ravaged her had she been in a better state of mind.

No, if she had been in a better state of mind she would not have come. It must have been her desire for him that pulled her here. Sober he was sure she was still too angry with him, she would have continued to avoid his presence.

"Come back.."

_Venhedis_, could he refuse her nothing? He returned to the bed, trying to put her current state of undress out of his mind. One of her hands rose feebly and closed on his wrist. He could feel her small, tired tugs on his arm. Attempting to pull him down onto the bed with her.

Well, apparently there **were** still things he could deny her...or himself, he was not quite sure. The look on her face when he did not comply nearly did him in.

"No." He told her, trying to be firm. The look of disappointment as he lowered himself to the floor beside her ate away at him. Fenris leaned back against the wall, holding her gaze.

"I will stay here." A small smile graced her lips as he reassured her, and Hawke seemed to fall easily back into her drunken sleep, consent with just his presence.

The soft sound of her breath continued to seduce him as Fenris attempted to calm himself. He needed to find some peace – maybe even sleep. She was so close. His raging desire for her gnawed slowly at his resistance. It would be so easy to climb into the bed as she asked, to feel her slight form pressed against him. The thought of what she would feel like under his roaming hands sent another jolt of desire through him – immediately undoing any progress he had made. His leggings were suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Fenris." The soft caress of her voice came from the bed once again, though her eyes did not open. Was she talking in her sleep?

"Fenris..."

His name was a breathy moan as her body squirmed beneath his sheets. Resting his head on his knees in a sort of defeat Fenris tried to concentrate on taking deep, steady breaths.

His name rang out again. This time it was unmistakable. Her voice sounded just like it had in the Fade.

_ She is dreaming of me._

The realization undid him. He could not fight this, but he could not leave his place beside beside her.

He let his eyes slide closed, feeling more than slightly ashamed of what he was about to do.

The sound of her body in the throes of pleasure seemed to urge him on. It was a sweet torture, listening to her lost in an imagined passion. Her soft mewlings and the continued murmur of his name made him swallow his pride.

With practiced hands he undid the latches on his armor, loosening his leggings enough so that he no longer felt confined – Enough that his hand could slip under the rough fabric.

_I should not feel so guilty about this. _He assured himself as he pictured her hand in place of his own. Would she be confident or shy? Firm or gentle? He wished he knew... He wished he could fantasize properly. It took great will power to go slow. And Fenris quickly lost himself in visions - seeing her fingers instead of his own, exploring him for the first time.

... But it seemed Hawke had other ideas.

"Fenris _please_..." she cried, her voice sharp as her body arched up off the bed.

It was the last straw. Fenris tightened his hand around his length, allowing his strokes to increase in pace until they were almost desperate.

"More!"

Fenris brought his other hand down to cup himself as the other continued it's fevered tugs. He needed release _now. _He could not hold on any longer.

"Marian.." her name tumbled from his mouth as a soft whimper as his release washed over him.

"...Fenris?"

She was no longer asleep.

Her gaze felt heavy on him as he pulled his hands from within his leggings, evidence of his deed spread across his palm. The elf found himself unable to meet her gaze, simply grumbling a response. Furious at himself for being so reckless. He should not have done this here.

"Go back to sleep Hawke."

His voice sounded harsh and dismissive – but he was not angry at** her**.

Hawke gave him no response other than the sound of shifting covers as she turned away from him. He would get no sleep tonight.

_Was this how she felt?_

He let his head fall heavily against the wall, hoping only that she would have no more dreams tonight – and perhaps that she would not remember these events tomorrow.

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTE:**** /furious blushing.**

… **and my boyfriend wonders why he's not allowed to read this stuff. Geeze. **


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